


the one where they let beckett be the big spoon

by AshDoesFandom



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Lower Decks (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dissociation, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Polyamory, Puppy Piles, Sensory Overload, Sleepovers, Tumblr Prompt, Wee bit of angst, brief mention of OCD, rated T for Mariner's cussing problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshDoesFandom/pseuds/AshDoesFandom
Summary: Prompt: any good poly ship should have a cute sleepover ficSam gets an sensory overload, Brad worries, D'Vana is the only adult to be found, and Beckett finally gets to be the big spoon
Relationships: Brad Boimler/Beckett Mariner/Sam Rutherford/D'Vana Tendi, Sam Rutherford & Everyone
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	the one where they let beckett be the big spoon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LastOneOut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastOneOut/gifts).



Sam’s doorbell rings at 1am.

“I’ve got it!” Brad shouts from the kitchen, tupplewear clattering from where he haphazardly throws it in the sink. Sam’s blinks up at the ceiling numbly. Brad’s OCD usually means the kitchen is kept immaculate; it’s not like him to be careless with the dishes--ridiculous though that may sound. 

“It’s not a cleaning thing,” Brad had said once, albeit reluctantly. “I mean, I know some people where it _is_ a cleaning thing, but it’s more of a. Like a voice in my head telling me that if I don’t do certain things right now I’ll throw up, or you’ll get in a car accident. It’s stupid,” he muttered.

“It’s not stupid,” Sam had protested, placing a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “It’s concerning-”

“Thanks.”

“-But not stupid,” Sam finished. “And something you should definitely talk to your therapist about.”

Brad had snorted. “Thanks, _dad_.”

“I didn’t know you guys were into that,” Beck had said, cheeky grin on her face. The conversation had quickly de-escalated into the two arguing--Brad redfaced, Beck smirking. The conversation had been left behind them, but Sam hadn’t forgotten.

So needless to say, he was surprised--or as surprised as his mental state would allow him--when Brad opted to abandon the kitchen to answer the door.

“Oh my god, you weren’t kidding,” a voice said in surprise, causing Sam to look away from his intent staring into the void.

D’Vana and Beck stand in the living room doorway, jacket’s over their pajamas, in similar states of disarray. They must have been asleep, Sam guesses, or intending to very soon. 

Beck is watching him, eyes narrowed sharply like she can see straight through him. It’s an unsettling expression, usually reserved for Brad when he’s back on his bullshit, or for Amina in the rare occasion she and Jen come over. It makes Sam feel exposed in all the wrong places. He shivers slightly at the intent gaze, wishing she would look away.

“Okay, go get as many pillows and blankets as you can, Brad,” D’Vana says, clapping her hand together. “Beck, you go make some hot chocolate for us.” She smiles at Sam warmly. “TV on or off?”

Sam opens his mouth. Closes it. Licks his cracked lips. Brad and Beck hover behind D’Vana uncertainly, both still watching him. He can’t think with everyone’s eyes on him.

D’Vana, seemingly sensing this, turns on her heel. “Seriously? What did I just say?”

Cowed, their boyfriend and girlfriend make themselves scarce. D’Vana rolls her eyes, approaching the couch Sam was laying on with a casual ease that couldn’t be feigned. “We’re in love with idiots,” she tells him, sitting on his feet.

Usually the touch would be too much right now, but D’Vana’s pajama bottoms are a soft fuzzy cotton that brushes up against his skin soothingly. The heat of her skin through the fabric is also welcome. Sam closes his eyes and focuses on the point of contact between them.

A few minutes later, Brad comes back, arms laden with pillows and blankets. He drops them on the floor, next to the couch, and leaves again. Shaking her head, D’Vana bounds of the couch and begins arranging the pillows along the floor.

“What are you doing?” Beck asks, coming in with a tray of mugs. She places it on the coffee table. The sweet smell of chocolate hits Sam’s senses. He thinks he can also detect the tiniest tinge of alcohol coming from one of them. Beck makes eye contact with him and hastily grabs one of the mugs.

If Sam had the energy he would have rolled his eyes and teased her about it.

Brad comes back in the room with more blankets. “Slumber party?” he asks D’Vana dryly, one eyebrow raised at the adorable nest she was creating on the floor.

“Shut the fuck up, you love being cuddled,” Beck says, before taking a noisy slurp of her spiked cocoa.

Brad gives her a flat expression. “I think _you_ like being cuddled.”

“Yeah, since when?”

“Since you got all handsy on movie night and tried to get D’Vana to spoon you.”

Beck sputters. “I’m the big spoon in this relationship, Bradward!” she gestures to all four of them.

“No you’re not,” both D’Vana and Sam say in unison. Sam’s voice comes out in a raspy croak. There’s a pause from the other three, where they all exchange a quick glance over his head. It’s as annoying as it is sweet, but Sam doesn’t have the energy to call them out.

“Whatever,” Beck mutters, awkwardly stumbling through the pause. She places her mug back on the table. “Are we gonna puppy pile or what?”

Ten minutes later, Sam finds himself on the floor, surrounding by pillows and blankets. D’Vana’s head is on his shoulder and she’s being spooned by a smug Beck. Boimler is on his other side, not making physical contact beyond holding Sam’s hand.

The TV is on, an episode of the X-Files running.

“Hey guys?” He tests his voice. It’s still a little off, but he pushes on regardless. “Thank you.”

His boyfriend and girlfriends all chirp out similar reassurements and endearments. Sam squeezes Brad’s hand, hooks his ankle around Beck’s, and drops his head on top of D’Vana’s, letting her soft hair tickle his cheek. The TV drones on, the gentle smell of chocolate and D’Vana’s shampoo wafts through the air.

Sam closes his eyes and finally falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a "Beckett is the little spoon" truther except for when her girlfriend needs to be someone else's big spoon


End file.
